I recognized him. Camilo wasn’t good for much of any substance, but evidently he knew how to strike a pose for the camera. Whatever folksy charm he may have had, he looks like a scrawny punk with too much hair for his build, dressed up in a uniform he doesn’t carry well and hardly flatters him. In other words, he looks like a cheap poseur–and notice they’re all wearing hats indoors. There should have been red flags (no pun intended) going off all over the damn place. What a cluster fuck the “revolution” was.

Camilo is a prime example of a certain Cuban propensity to fall very hard for very little, given suitable packaging, however spurious it may be. This involves a distressing weakness for the superficially appealing, with a concurrent failure to look or think hard and a less-than-impressive natural capacity for discerning judgment.

Wow, Asombra! I’m stealing the whole thing. Indeed, I never tire of reminding folks that the demonized (by us) Herbert Matthews was in fact acting at the behest of wealthy Cubans–many of whom were frantically scrambling to Miami two years after Matthews obliged them! Le ZZZUMBA!